


A Heaping Spoonful

by La_Temperanza



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Episode s05e03: The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, M/M, Mild S&M, Spanking, Spoon Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 08:04:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Temperanza/pseuds/La_Temperanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You want me to punish with you this, <i>Mer</i>lin?” There’s a tap against his skin. Not hard enough to bruise, but just enough to smart. To get Merlin to gasp as Arthur does it to the other cheek. “With a spoon?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Heaping Spoonful

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Magnolia822's [MERLIN S5 COMMENT FEST](http://magnolia822.livejournal.com/28970.html). Set in 5x03, because while everyone else seemed to be obsessing about the implications about fisting, I loved the idea of Arthur and Merlin getting kinky with that spoon. Unbeta'd.
> 
> Also, technically infidelity if you squint, but I'm going to with my head-canon that Gwen knows what Arthur and Merlin get up to, and is perfectly fine with it. ~~And sometimes joins in.~~

It starts innocently enough, Merlin's fascination with silverware. More specifically with spoons, and different uses for them that have never presented themselves before until very recently.

He's just served Arthur breakfast, standing by at his usual spot beside the table, when suddenly he can't stop staring, for Arthur eating his porridge has become the most mesmerizing thing that Merlin has ever seen. Or it’s more of the sight of the silver spoon, slipping over Arthur's lips and across his tongue, that has his rapt attention.

Merlin shudders, remembering when he had scoffed at the idea of Arthur threatening him with a mere spoon. That day, Arthur had proven that a spoon could be more than effective for the job, just not in the way he probably intended.

Arthur's teeth scrape lightly against the metal as he eats, and Merlin has to bite back a groan. Because he can still feel the sharp coolness against his skin when Arthur had hit him, the inflamed heat from the blood that had rushed to his cheek. It had stung of course, but had also sparked something else inside him, a thought he was hesitant to identify but wanted to chase after all the same.

"Merlin, are you listening to me?"

Merlin blinks, finding Arthur has stopped eating and is staring at him like he's brain-addled. In other words, Arthur's expression ninety percent of the time when it comes to his manservant.

The spoon is still in his hands, held aloft like a beacon, and Merlin feels heat surge to his groin. A part of him says that it's wrong, to get excited over the unique possibilities for cutlery usage. But try telling his dick that, and he squirms, tugging on the hem of his tunic and hoping it covers the bulge in his trousers. "I'm sorry, what?"

Arthur sighs and points the spoon in Merlin's direction, jabbing the air to punctuate every word. "You are the worst manservant ever, _Mer_ lin."

"Maybe you should punish me then." The words are out of Merlin's mouth before he can think of the consequences, but it's too late to take them back now. And honestly, thinking about it, he doesn’t want to. He wants to push this as far as he can, to see what Arthur will do next.

Arthur raises a bemused eyebrow. “You want me to punish you?” he asks slowly, as if he’s talking to a small child. “Have you gone completely daft then?”

Merlin kneels down at Arthur’s feet, the roughly hewed stones of the floor scraping through his thin breeches. In all the years he’s been employed in Arthur’s service, it’s rare for him to act so subservient. Arthur must recognize this too, because his eyes grow wide, his pupils darkening.

“How,” Arthur says, his voice low and husky, “should I punish you?”

Merlin says nothing as he gazes up at Arthur through lowered eyelashes. For once, words fail him, and he finds he can’t ask for what he wants, as much as his body is begging for it.

Arthur seems to get the idea, because he reaches forward, tracing Merlin’s cheekbone with the back of the spoon. Merlin presses back against it, his face flushed with embarrassment over being so eager. But it’s what’s fueled his fantasies for the past couple nights, and no matter how many times he’s wanked away in the tiny cot in Gaius’s back room, he still can’t quite get the edge off.

“You want me to punish with you this, _Mer_ lin?” There’s a tap against his skin. Not hard enough to bruise, but just enough to smart. To get Merlin to gasp as Arthur does it to the other cheek. “With a spoon?”

“Please,” Merlin says, licking lips that have suddenly become too dry. “Arthur, please.”

With that, Arthur springs into action. “Come on then,” he says, pulling Merlin off the ground with relative ease. “I can’t have my manservant walking around with his face black and blue, now can I? Some people already say that I treat you too harshly.”

Before Merlin can realize what is truly happening, he is sprawled out across Arthur’s lap, the back of his breeches pulled down, his buttocks in the air. A small part of him is mortified at being displayed in such a fashion, but it’s quickly drowned out by the press of Arthur’s thigh shifting against his cock.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Arthur asks, his fingers resting on the white globes of Merlin’s ass. “Last chance to back out.”

Merlin nods his permission and prepares himself for the first strike. Even though he’s ready for it, he still cries out as the spoon smacks hard. He’s just given a few seconds to recover, for the pain to begin to seep away, when the spoon comes down again. There’s a restless energy thrumming through his veins, akin to when he’s doing magic, yet it’s so much more. He wants to bottle it up within himself, to hold onto it tightly and never let go until it implodes him from within.

He moans as Arthur switches to the other side, then back again, the spoon coming down harder and faster each and every time. Arthur is physically fit and the action is hardly straining on his part, so Merlin can’t understand the increased hitch in both of their breathing, unless it’s because Arthur is getting off on this just as much as Merlin. That idea, that hope, spurs him on, and he tentatively thrusts his hips once against Arthur’s leg, desperate for friction against his aching cock. He swears he hears Arthur groan in response, so Merlin continues to grind against him, stilling every now and then when the spoon lands a particularly successful strike.

It’s one last forceful smack, followed by Arthur’s hands kneading the sore flesh, that is Merlin’s eventual undoing. He shouts as he comes in the front of his breeches, staining the fabric thoroughly with hot and heavy streaks. He’ll pay for it later when he has to do his laundry, but he’s not worried about it now, not when he’s hanging limply across Arthur’s lap, his sated body humming through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He’s just about to drift off with no regards to his position or location when he discovers two things: One, Arthur is still touching him, massaging the muscles and soothing away the pain, and two, his erection is poking painfully into Merlin’s side. With a sigh, Merlin languidly slips off of him, wincing when his butt accidentally lands on the floor.

“Is your little bottom sore?” Arthur teases, but there’s real concern in his eyes as he looks for any regret hidden away in Merlin’s features or movement. True, Merlin is going to be tender for hours, maybe even days, but it’s more than worth it, and he wastes no time in thanking Arthur for such a generous punishment. He scoots forward and fumbles with the laces on Arthur’s breeches, and before Arthur can say anything, Merlin has his hardened dick in his mouth.

It’s messy and frantic, with Merlin not quite sure what he’s doing as he strokes with his hand what he can’t fit down his throat, but soon Arthur is coming as well with thick, milky spurts. Merlin chokes at first, but manages to swallow it all, leaning forward as Arthur cards fingers through his hair.

Neither of them speak at first; their quiet gasps for air are the only sounds echoing in the room. Growing self-conscious over what they’ve just done, Merlin reaches up to tuck Arthur back into his breeches before stumbling to his feet, legs shaking like a newborn foal. He knocks over an empty goblet in his haste to gather up the remains of Arthur’s breakfast, not sure if he’s ready to handle the conversation they need to have over this right away. He can’t even look Arthur in the eye at the moment, too ashamed of what he might think, even if both parties have seemed to enjoy it.

But just as he’s about to head to the door to escape, tray in hand, Arthur stops him by grasping at his elbow. “Merlin, wait.”

Merlin pauses, his heart beating wildly in his chest, and then whines as Arthur nips at one of his earlobes.

“The next time you fetch my meal,” Arthur whispers, “bring a bigger spoon.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to comment at livejournal, you may do so [here](http://fuckyeah.livejournal.com/274676.html).


End file.
